Even A Silver Dragon CAn Bleed Red
by starsandlullabies
Summary: Obsession. Passion. Forgiveness. Revenge. Power. War. Love.
1. Six Years and You Still Burn

_**Chapter One**_

_**Six Years and you still burn**_

"_You would die for them?"_

"_They believe in something."_

"_And what do you believe in, Draco?"_

"_Not. You."_

The cold gripped him to the bone and the freezing rain stuck to his skin and made his clothes feel like a prison. There was a foggy mist all around him from the cold and the graveyard was dank and gloomy. _What a perfect setting._ He didn't know why he had come here, maybe for a catalyst or a reason to come back, all he knew was he needed to see it. His father's grave.

It was buried in the middle of a muggle graveyard in London to protect his father's bones and rest his soul and only he and his mother, a few Blacks, and a very few amount of Death Eaters knew where it was. It read **Lucious Malfoy-A Soul Above The Rest**, and Draco snorted at the words. _A soul above the rest, yes that is exactly what you should call a murderer._

Draco shivered, not because of the cold, but because the memories he had tried so hard to repress came roaring back to him. His perfectly deceitful past that he had tried so hard to forget and keep from hurting them. From hurting her. He bough his head up to look at the tombstone and felt the familiar feelings once again in his cold heart and if his heart could feel, it could only feel for her. First it was waves and waves of rage and hate. Hate that so consumed him he wished only to torture her till she cried and begged she was sorry for something she had never done. Then came the familiar feeling of need and want. To say it wasn't lust was a lie, but it wasn't a physical lust alone. Without the shadow of doubt, he loved her more than anything in this world and everything she was, he lusted for. He lusted for the one soul and creature he should never lay hands on, no a murdering bastard and deceitful leech like him should never even be near enough to darken the edges of her innocence. He couldn't and he would be damned if the one gift he could give her was taken away. It was the one gift he could give to her, to Hermione Granger.

He felt the familiar pain in his chest, as though he was drowning and his own soul wanted to rot away just to feel a little relieved. Hermione Granger changed who he was, how he lived, and what he did. If it hadn't been for her, he would be living in the Malfoy Manor with his disastrous father, delirious mother, and all he could have ever wished for, but his perfect little world would have killed him in the end. The difference between him and his parents was one Hermione Granger.

It happened the moment he met her on the train first year. She had refused him and gone to his worst enemy and the Weasel.

He smirked at the name and even if it held no insult anymore and no one could hear it, it had become an affectionate name for a memory he would give anything to go back to. It was because she was a 'mudblood' and had refused him. She hadn't been the prettiest girl there and she certainly wasn't the kindest, but she had a spark he had never seen before. Even then she had a dark spark that made her fight all the more harder. Then in the second year, how she stood up for her friends no matter what and even when there was a great chance she could have died-and almost did-she fought off the basilisk only to give one clue to them. But in the third year, that's when everything really changed.

In the third year, when the threat of Voldemort's power increased and possibilities arose, she did everything in her power to make sure she could fight them and those she knew could too. She didn't hide away and not believe it wasn't there, but looked at it head on and fought back. He couldn't remember how many times he had caught her with a dark magic book, but it had been enough to arouse suspicion in the Dark Lord, and that's when his interest started too.

Draco wasn't stupid. He knew the Dark Lord, as powerful as he was, was scared to death. This was a new age; an age where anyone would fight and kids would kill without a second glance if they had too. An age where anybody could learn and find things about him that should have never been known. It was how she knew the Dark Lord's secret about a snake, why "the boy who lived" could speak parrslmouth (sp), and who he had been. It was her who figured out all the riddles "the boy who lived" had to face and it was her who knew just what to do.

Aside from the fact she was far to smart for her age, it was her character herself. Draco watched as countless people turned to her for guidance and she would lend without thinking twice to give them her shoulder to cry on. He watched as she took everything and in turn, kept it all. She was the "the boy who lived" pillar of strength and his only escape from the darkness. She was the Weasel's best friend through anything and though they had loved her, he could see it in their eyes, and they gave her everything they could, they could never comfort her.

Then there was the question she wasn't afraid of him, not at all. It was proved when she hit him square in the nose in the third year. He had been so stunned he couldn't even think. A mudblood had hit him, that wasn't possible, but she had and his world began to shift.

If mudbloods and halfbloods were so inferior, then why is a female mudblood turning out to be one of the most powerful women in history and a halfblood the Dark Lord? Draco knew he was the best at everything. That was an easy answer. It wasn't that he simply believed it; it was because it was true. The Dark Lord himself trained his father and his father trained him. He was a weapon in progress. Ever since the second year.

It was because he was brought up that way. He had always known he was meant for something other than the family name because if that was the case, his parents could have had ten children. No, it was because all the time and attention was devoted to him and to him alone. It was why he had begun an education when he was seven to learn everything he could about magic, war, strategies, and anything that could prove useful in the fight for the Dark Lord. It was why his father had beat him as a little boy and young man, to teach him to be tough and to face his enemies.

He smirked at the grave again.

But beyond that, Draco was trained to fight, to show no emotion, he was the ultimate Malfoy and if he didn't survive, then the Malfoy name didn't have the honor to exist.

It was honor, pride, and reputation that defined you. Power came into play, wealth helped considerably, but you didn't have to have either of those if you simply wanted to have a standing reputation in the Dark Lord's community.

Draco sighed and looked up against the sky. It was dark and daunting, and easy way to get yourself killed, but not much could rattle his cage. No, after all he'd been through, was still going to go through, that wasn't enough to even, making him think twice.

No, it was only her. He ground his teeth and kicked his muggle shoe into the dirt. The thought of her alone could rattle his cage. It had been seven years since he had actually felt any female and any other woman other than Hermione felt like ash in his arm. Funny how one little experience can jolt your world. It had happened in the astronomy tower of Hogwarts. The other reason why Draco was so very precious to the Dark Lord, because he alone could track everything in the school and not be detected, excluding his numerous talents. It was those very talents that made him turn his back though.

He could remember it clearly.

[**Flashback**

She was running, he could smell and hear her, one of the fancy new tricks the Dark Lord had given him for being a good "pet". He didn't have to run; he knew where she was going. He had a full league ahead of her anyways.

He finally reached the door to the astronomy tower and watched as the owls ruffled their feathers and cooed. He quickly glided over to the side of the door and cast a disillusion charm. The Dark Lord would be so pleased with her out of the way. The plan was to follow, he would give her the potion, say the charm to make it work, and then let her go thinking nothing had happened. Then she would slowly die and no one could do anything about it. With her out of the way, the Dark Lord could make his move and Draco could take out the Weasel. With them out of the way, the "the boy who lived" would have no one to help him, no one to turn to, and be depressed, broken, and alone. It was such a sweet plan Draco could practically taste it on his tongue.

He felt her draw near and as soon as she entered the door, Draco sprung into action.

He jumped from his place and muttered the counter spell and shoved the poor, unsuspecting, little Gryffindor against the walls.

"Hello, Granger," he growled and dug his nails into her alabaster skin as he shoved her harder against the wall, "a bit late for sending a letter, isn't it?" He watched through his silvery eyes as she squirmed and gasped for breath. It was so easy to make her feel pain and he relished the feeling of control but suddenly it stopped.

She stopped moving and simply laid her head back against the wood and looked at him straight in the eyes. He would have quietly gasped had he not been in so much control. Swimming around in those chocolate orbs was defiance, fight, stubbornness, but what gripped him were the resignation and his condemnation. He was so shaken he tried anything to get her back to a squirming, fearful little girl.

"What's the matter, mudblood? Aren't strong enough to fight back. Don't have to in you to fight back?" He closed his face in and wasn't' even half an inch from her nose. He stared straight in her eyes, but there was nothing. Not even a spark of fear.

"Has that stupid cat of yours got your tongue?" He half yelled as he dug his fingers in deeper and pressed her up against the wall as he dragged her body of the ground. She sucked in air and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them back in her iron mask. For a second, Draco wondered how something so light and delicate could be so strong.

"No."

At first he hadn't thought she said the word. It wasn't scared or cruel, it was simply determined. "Oh really?"

Then, taking him further by surprise, she craned her neck in and looked him directly in his eyes and into his head, "If you're going to kill me, then kills me. Slip something in me to make it look natural or kill me right here with your wand. You could do it, you're already a murderer, why would it be so hard now."

Draco just stared at her and then growled in her ear, "Watch your tongue, you fifthly mudblood!"

"Why? Because that might keep you from killing me? Killing me won't save your ass, killing me won't hurt Harry, Ron, or the Order." He looked back at her when she said it and she smirked, "What? I should keep that a secret because your precious Voldemort doesn't know about it? Or has he just not done anything about it. It's because he doesn't know who and where they are, does he?"

He growled again and leaned right at the nape of her neck and growled, "Don't be so sure of yourself, you stupid little girl."

She smirked and chuckled, "You don't get it do you, Draco?" He was stunned at her for using his first name, but more at what she was saying. This time she leaned in near his ear and whispered darkly, "If your master is so powerful, then why has been defeated three times and still must hide. If he's so great, then why is he so afraid of three tainted children, the mudblood, the orphan, and the poor little boy who has no skills?"

Draco looked back at her dug his fingers in so hard this time she moaned in pain and bit her lip. She laughed through her pain and asked, "Tell me Draco…. if you're so very proud and honorable and so very against anything but a pureblood, why are you giving your life for a half?"

That was when Draco dropped her and stumbled back. The needle he had been holding in the sleeve near his wrist fell forward and into his head. She still stayed against the wall and looked around for any defense while Draco stood away from her, panting.

She had just shattered everything he knew and now he didn't know what to do. He looked away and tried to reign himself back in, but was losing a battle.

"If you're going to kill me, then kill me now. I don't care about theatrics."

He looked at her again and whispered hoarsely, "Go."

She blinked several times and her face suddenly changed from defiant to confused. She was about to speak again when he practically shouted, "Go!"

She jumped and ran down to the door when she stopped and gripped the frame for support. Turning her head slightly, she whispered, "Thank you."

He was still panting and looked at the needle in his hand and threw wretched thing against the wall and stumbled away. _She's right…the mudblood is right…._

[**End of Flashback**

It was on that day that everything changed. He knew she had seen it too. He rarely called her anything and in his own was, was kind to her. His insults became more witty banter and his smirks became silent, secret smiles. He didn't know if she saw these or not, but she was smart enough to realize he was different. He acted different towards everyone else too, no matter his or her blood.

He began to fall in love with her too. She made him realize so many things. Throughout history and before the Dark Lord, Malfoys were the most powerful wizards and witches known to the rich, powerful, and everyone else. The Malfoys made decisions, influenced all, and in some cases, controlled all. It was only until Tom Riddle showed up that everything changed. He couldn't accept that. He was a Malfoy and he would be damned if he was controlled by a halfblood psychotic killer who only did this to get revenge on his parents. No, he was different. It was her.

It was because of her he started to slowly break away from his father's teachings and the Dark Lord's grip. It was why he shied away from the Golden Trio and especially her. The father he was from her, the less he was hurt. And then it had happened.

Draco looked at the tombstone and grimaced. It was because of his emotions that he was in this predicament. He had never really used them and governed more with is head than heart, except where she was concerned. His obsession had gone so far he could pick out her scent anywhere, knew her favorite subjects, who she was, where she was from, and who her parents were. He knew her moods, her language, when she was tired, when she was angry. He knew everything. It was because of what he knew that his father lay six feet under.

It was because of her defiance, her loyalty, her kindness, her unwillingness to give in, and mostly, her love-everything that wasn't him- that him and his life had truly and drastically changed.

Draco knew his father had been a favorite, just as Bellatrix Black, Barty Crouch JR., and Rodolphus Lestrange were his favorites. They were his inner circles, his private court, his only family-and Draco was planned to be his "adopted son." He simply had one task. To take out the mudblood and the Weasel and when approached his sixth year in the beginning and failed, the Dark Lord grew very anxious when he didn't approach it again in the beginning of the seventh. It was then Draco realized her words were correct, he was scared of them.

And when he asked his father to kill them with a simple Adva Kendura, Draco couldn't let it happen. He couldn't let her feel that heartbreak. She was still too innocent for the war. Let her believe Hogwarts is safe, let her believe she is still allowed to sleep and play within Dumbledore's walls.

And then, miracurously, his father was dead. He was under the care of his mother and although she was a pureblood and supported Lucsious, she didn't believe there needed to be a massacre. No, she had something else. For seventeen long years, Draco had been brainwashed to believe one thing. Then she changed everything he knew and now he knew he didn't fight on a side, but for those he loved, even if they didn't know at all.

No, she would never know how much he had helped her, how many times he had tried for her, how many things he had done for her, but she didn't need to. She was safe in her own world of black and white and that was the way he wanted it for her, because he wanted her to have that little frame to hang on to when everything else fall. And he would make sure anyone who got in the way of that was killed. Even it meant he could never return to Draco Malfoy.

He looked up one last time and began to leave. He could only be here a few more hours. He had a task to complete.


	2. Memories are the only thing I hold onto

_**Chapter Two**_

_**Memories are the only thing I can hold onto**_

_When you hide_

_You hide inside your body_

_But just remember_

_The more you shake_

_The more you vie away_

Hermione Granger was a smart girl, she always had been. She had her wits, her book smarts, and her intuition. She knew when something wasn't right. And it was all because of the Order.

Hermione sighed and looked down into the scalding black liquid lodged between her hands in a paper cup. There were some Muggle things she would never give up and coffee cafes were one of them. Wizards be damned. She raised the cup to her lips and drank in the hot liquid with a satisfied smirk.

The place around her looked the same as it always had. Ever since she was a little girl and she went there with her parents. She might not have been allowed to have sweet, but her parents were coffee-holics. The little Café was mix between a coffee shop, café, and bookstore. She would always order her mocha and then go sit in the corner between the books and the window. She would sit in her little maroon recliner and curl up for a good hour or two. And think.

Sometimes it was about her childhood, sometimes it was about the Muggle world, sometimes it was about memories of Hogwarts, sometimes it was about what she and her friends would do that night. But it was never about the war.

Hermione sighed and stared back down at her coffee again. The mere fact that there was a war going on outside wasn't what scared her, she'd face worse and she knew worse was going on outside. Not just in the Muggle world. When there was the terrorist attacks in London, everyone at the Burrow asked what that was and Harry and her simply smiled sorrowfully and held onto each other.

That brought her round to Harry and she curled up tighter around herself in the chair with the coffee and pulled the coat tighter. She looked out the window and saw the rain was still heavy and the fog hadn't let up. People ran by in their coats and umbrellas with all sorts of things. Her heart twanged for them and she inwardly cursed the Wizard World.

Oh hard it was that they had it, stupid, stupid Wizards. Sure they knew magic, but they had no idea the horrors outside of their world. In truth, Hermione was proud she was part Muggle, it gave her an edge. She was a survivor. While others gave up the moment their magic was gone, she knew how to fight back without it. She could live anywhere and blend in, she wasn't stupid. She was brilliant. Which is why she chose the coffee shop. Only Tonks, Harry, Remus-because he simply seemed to know all, and Dumbledore knew where to find her. They also knew to stay away when she was there. It was funny; she was escaping one broken world for another.

She took another sip of the scalding liquid and smiled as it burned her throat and how the pain for one moment made it okay. She inwardly cringed when she thought about the war. In six years, so much had been lost and she had lost so much. Only Harry knew how much she had lost and that was because he had it as hard as her. They were each other's lifelines and if one let go, they would both just fall. Ginny understood that and so did Ron.

Something beeped and she looked down at her watch and smiled at the last time someone else heard that beep. It had been in the seventh year in Potions next to Draco Malfoy. It had been so strange. When it beeped he jumped up as well as everyone else but instead of being startled and think it was funny, he held his wand out in front of him and she saw something in his eyes. It was the day she finally began to understand him. All those years of being the Malfoy golden child had taken their toll. His father was dead, his mother wasn't the same, and his other Slytherins regarded him with fear, hate, or envy. He commanded more respect, but in a quiet, subtle way. He no longer smiled or made jokes often, only with Harry and Ron.

Hermione remembered how she saw him differently, definitely after the incident in the sixth year, but something clicked. Malfoy didn't choose his life like the others had, he had been born into it, thrusted, and even prodded into this mold. Now that it broke, he was somehow changed. He wasn't the proud Draco anymore, he was broken and he saw his life as something worse, something abominable. She saw that.

She began to see how he would only call her mudblood in the company of others, but even then, it didn't come out as an insult, but almost an affectionate nickname. He was calling her his mudblood and she soon began to love it just as much. He never truly insulted her anymore more and if he had to, he would use her first name.

Then there was the fact he had declined the Head Boy Badge. She had inquired him about it, but that hadn't gone to well.

[**Flashback**

Hermione stormed down the hallway and into the library. She was furious, some stupid little Hufflepuff was not going to be a Head Boy, and she had worked to hard. She finally came upon the object of her determination. There, sitting in the corner in a chair at a table, was Draco Malfoy. He looked tired, worn, and ultimately, stricken. It only made her angrier. He was a Malfoy, he wasn't supposed to look like that. He was supposed to insult her and make everything work. He was the enemy and if he wasn't, then who else was the constant.

"Ahem." She stated.

That was another thing she thought was so utterly fascinating. He never startled, no matter what. It was if he didn't care what was going to happen to him and even if it was death calling at his heals, he would react coolly and proudly. She liked that about him, he had courage and he wasn't willing to back down.

He casually looked up and met her eyes. He didn't say anything but waited for her to speak.

"You didn't accept the position." It was a statement, not a question.

"No, I didn't."

That was the other thing she loved. He didn't beat around the bush, he knew what you're talking about and he got straight to the point.

"Why?"

"It was not mine to take."

"Your father isn't here to back you up anymore so you don't accept the position." She said menacingly and before she could speak, he stood up gracefully and fully and she had never been more aware of how much he was a threat. He stood at least a foot over her and his broad shoulders and lean frame against her petite one made a dominating position she didn't like.

She thought he was going to berate her for using his father against him, but as usual, Draco Malfoy never did the usual.

"No. My father isn't here anymore." He simply just looked at her and turned to leave. She ran after him and matched his gait as he walked through the stone halls. She grabbed his arm and turned him to face her.

"You owe me an explanation."

"You have already given one."

"You know that's bullocks, give me the damn reason." Draco sighed and looked out towards the light filled hallways at the end of this one. The stone seemed to be seeping and squeezing him. He didn't want to stay here, didn't want to be near here, but she deserved an answer. Finally, he sighed, and in a level, emotionless, and quiet voice, answered, "Hogwarts is a much safer place if I am not connected to a position of power."

She furrowed her brow and let him go as he turned to leave. She tried to grasp his words and knew they were important, he rarely said things unless they were important now. But was surprised Hermione more was that she realized her perfect little world of black and white was now mixing into gray.

[**End of Flashback**

That was the day she truly realized she had grown up, when her prejudice was put aside because the universal right and wrong was not always right. She looked at the beeping again and saw her watch was screaming at her to leave to the Burrow. Tonight was a family Dinner. Fleur was going to have another child soon and Bill wanted to celebrate. Personally, she really didn't like the French tart, but who was she to judge. Silently slipping out from the café, she slipped into the alley next to her and aparated to the Burrow.


	3. A Family of Fifteen, what a lucky number

_**Chapter Three**_

_**A Family of Fifteen, what a lucky number**_

_Just let me have this time_

_Then you can have me_

_But let me have this moment_

As usual, the burrow sang with excitement and life and Harry felt it creep into his system. He had been here for a couple of hours with Ron playing Quiditch and talking with the Weasley gang. He spent an hour or two with Ginny and they had talked about life, about them, about their recent hitch, and about how Harry had finally accept Ginny 'Ginerva' Weasley had grown up. The redhead witch no longer was the little girl everyone knew or her brothers still treated. She was an auror, deadly, and incredibly brilliant. She had her own wits and streets smarts and was a young Hermione in progress. Aside from Hermione, she was his savior, his angel in the dark.

_Speaking of Hermione, where the bloody hell is she?_

Harry, like the other thirteen that were in the Burrow at the present knew not to be late to one of Molly's 'family dinners', if that's what you called a family of eight and seven adopted family members. She was probably scarier than the Dark Lord himself when she got into one of her moods about family. Suddenly there was a pop to his left and he turned his emerald eyes to a witch with wavy brown hair, chocolate eyes, alabaster skin, and a lean body. He smiled as the witch came running his way and flung herself into his arms. Ginny may be his angel, but Hermione was his Mary.

"Harry!" He smiled. He had always loved Hermione, more than anyone could ever tell, but he knew he would never have her as his. She was too independent and needed someone who could offer her the world, he couldn't do that, he was bound to his fate. He knew though, that Hermione had a place for him in her heart that no one could take and she would give her life away so he could live an that was okay with him. In away, she was his little sister and he was her little brother. They took care of each other. It showed in the way Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and he dangled her off the ground in his strong arms. He just prayed to God no one ever hurt her. She'd already suffered too much, he wouldn't let he suffer anymore.

"Hey Hermione."

"Hey Harry. Oh, it smells good even out here."

"Yeah, but don't' go in there."

"The French tart?"

"The French tart."

They looked at each other and burst out laughing. They had so many inside jokes that they didn't even remember them anymore. All they had to do was look and even if they didn't have the power of occumulecy, they could still understand one another.

"So, how are you, oh Harry the Boy Who Lived?" Harry cringed at the familiar memory but smiled at the absurdity of it.

"You know, you really don't have a right to call me that."

"And why not?"

"Because that gives me the right to call you bookworm."

"Oh I'm shaking in my boots."

"I'm warning you, if you do that again you're gonna regret it."

Hermione smirked and then shrieked as Harry picked her up and carried her into the house.

Everyone suddenly turned to see a squirming witch in Harry's arms and Ginny, sitting at the table with Tonks slapped her arm and said, "Dammit Harry, I told you not to do that in public. Keep it out of public eye." Tonks in turn smiled and they both laughed as Harry turned to Hermione and waggled his eyebrows suspiciously.

"Harry, put the girl down." Harry feigned hurt and looked at the redhead who just addressed. Ronald Weasley. How much he had changed. Gone was the little boy who threw a tantrum and what had replaced him was sharp, strong, and mature.

"Ahhh, Ron, do I have to." Ron raised one eyebrow and said with a smirk Fred and George could be proud of, "Only if you share." At that point, Hermione bit Harry's arm and he dropped her.

"Ummph!" She squeaked and rubbed her soar butt and glared at them both. Suddenly, chuckles were heard around her and she couldn't help but smile. On the couch was Bill with his arm around Fleur who's large stomach bulged her and Hermione looked up to Harry and then to Ron whom both chuckled at their little joke. Bill prominently turned to look at the two he knew were making fun of his wife and glared. Harry and Ron shrugged and tried to hold in their laughter as Fleur glared too. After being so close to a veela, they had gotten used to her charms and saw her only as Fleur, whom they had affectionately named "kitchen Flour". By the window were Charlie and Fred and George who were talking about his dragon escapades and their bag of tricks. Near the fire were Remus Lupin, Arthur Weasly, and Kinglsey Shackbold along with Moody. In the kitchen were Molly, Tonks, and Ginny. Hermione smiled and looked up at the two best friends before laughing at only something they knew. Ron sauntered over and reached out a hand to Hermione.

She in turn pretended to pout and crossed her legs and arms and stuck out her tongue. Ron laughed and Harry guffawed. Hermione could be so childish when and if she wanted. Ron and Harry then looked at one another and Hermione jumped up and tried to turn when Harry grabbed her around the waste and Ron grabbed her legs.

"Think she make a good stew."

"I don't know…with all those stale books she hangs around…maybe it's affected her too."

"Hey, I am here you know. And put me down right now!" Harry and Ron smirked and nodded and proceeded to the kitchen.

"I mean it Harry James Potter and Ronald Billius Weasley! Right now!"

"Hear that Harry, I think she's excited."

"I hear they taste better frightened."

"What in the blazes are you two doing!" Molly asked stared at the two boys brining in a disgruntled Hermione. Ginny and Tonks just giggled.

"I'll have mine over easy." Ginny said and Tonks added, "Naw, to raw, better fry her."

"Boys, you put her down right now." The bows suddenly let go and hung their heads. Molly put her hands on her hips and shook a finger at them, "Out. I can handle the twins but I don't need another set of them." Harry and Ron nodded and hid their smirks under their hair. Hermione just sighed and sat over at the counter across from Ginny and Tonks.

"Wotcher Hermione."

"Hi Mione."

"Hey."

"So how was the coffee quest?"

"Mmmm, wonderful."

Only Tonks and Harry knew of the true joys of a Muggle coffee shop, and only they knew why she wasn't willing to give it up either. It was a safe haven she didn't want to have corrupted by the magical world- her own little invisibility cloak- the moment she stepped into it, she was Hermione Granger, human, Muggle, and ordinary. In fact, she could never truly leave the Muggle community; there was just something so simple and nice about it, about how technology worked and how it was explained, or other things. It was nice to revert back to something so ordinary and light. She sighed as her thoughts brought her back to her time and place.

Everyone knew the party for Fleur wasn't really a party for Fleur, although it was an excellent mask. However, Molly didn't need it, but it did seem much nicer to say, "Fleur's party," then "Maybe the last time we see each other again party."

She looked back at Tonks who was looking at her. Like Hermione, Tonk's weakness was the movies, it was her coffee shop and for a moment, they shared a look of pure understanding. Suddenly, Ginny clapped her hands and yelled, "I'm starving!"


	4. Memories can haunt, but they cannot touc

_**Chapter Four**_

_**Memories can haunt, but they cannot touch**_

_I can feel you on my skin_

_A graceful touch_

_Lips like fire_

_A kiss that will sear me for ever_

_And burn my memory until it's black_

As usual, she had stayed longer than expected and watched as the table now only sat the Weasleys, Harry, and herself. She yawned and stretched at the table, winking at Ginny to assure she was fine. She felt a poke at her side and swatted the hand away.

"Yep, she's tired." Ron said next to her and she in turn scowled. "I'm not tired."

"Yeah, that's why your mouth opens up wide enough to stick a cauldron in there."

"Oh quiet Ginny."

Ginny smirked and leaned against Harry. He looked down and smiled as he began to run his hand through her hair. If he was truthful to himself, he knew he couldn't live without the witch, but he usually didn't like to think like that. He smiled and leant down to kiss her forehead, but Ginny on the uptake smacked him on the lips. Ron and Hermione gave each other a quick glance and without missing a beat, screeched, "Ewwww! Get a room!"

Suddenly, all the Weasleys were looking at the youngest red head and Harry, who simply smiled and waved off the jest.

"Aren't you supposed to watch her so she doesn't kiss strangers?" Charlie said as he watched his youngest snog his "little brother".

"Charlie close your mouth before I hex it for you." Charlie looked at his younger sister completely taken back and feigned innocence. With his hand on his chest, he exclaimed, "Who me?"

"Don't pull a Fred and George."

"Who us?" Came in perfect unison, Fred and George. They had been in their own little conversation for some time about their new product. The twins looked at one another and gave a maniacal grin before Fred said, "So when's the wedding?"

"Yes George, I want to know too. When is the wedding dear sister?"

"Because we would love to be there."

"All those people."

"All the possibilities."

"Fred…George.." came Mrs. Weasley's warning. She stared at the boys and looked to Mr. Weasley who was intently watching rather than interrupting.

"Not to mention the lovely shade of angry red that will go perfect with the wedding dress."

"I do love a good wedding."

"Yes but she might need to year a red dress."

"Oh George! How could you! You can't wear red to a wedding!"

"And why not dear Fred?"

"Because it would clash so horridly with the white on a winter, summer, spring, or fall day."

At this point, Ginny interrupted and was about to point her wand at them when Harry said, "Ginny, the wedding will just you and me and no one else."

She looked at him and blinked, stunned he had said anything. There was suddenly a hush and Ron and Hermione who had just been watching now decided it was time to clean up.

"I'll get the dishes."

"I'll get the food."

They were up in a second and in the kitchen were both guffawed out loud. Slowly, she and Ron made it over to the counter and sat down across from one another. While they were laughing, Ron looked at Hermione and felt his insides cringe. She was so beautiful, gone was the bushy haired, bony know it all. In her place, stood a lean, strong, and graceful woman. She had soft, honey brown hair that trickled down her shoulders in gentle curls and ended just below her shoulder blades. She had alabaster skin and though pale, seemed to glow from within. She had an angel's face, but with piercing eyes Her face was angled and curved in all the right places with pouty lips and a pointed nose. Her eyes, though brown, were not a brown he had ever seen before. In those brown orbs were whirlwinds of color. Swirls of emerald and specks of gold illuminated her eyes.

Hermione caught him staring and raised one eyebrow and he just smiled back.

He loved her, god he loved her. It was everything about her. The way she screamed, the way she fought back, the way she laughed, the way she tripped- everything. He knew he couldn't survive without her because she was the one thing that truly made him feel his worth. He had a family who loved him, a best friend whom he shared the task of saving the world, but he had always been second in that, in her eyes, he was first. He might not be the first in her actual love life, but just like Harry, he had a special place in her heart as well.

"What are you doing, Ronald?" She asked as she stared directly at him. He smiled back at her, grabbed her hand across the table, and answered, "Just remembering the first time I kissed you." She blushed in return and without missing a beat, asked, "Was it nice?"

Ron stared at her and wanted to tell her it was the greatest thing he had ever done. It was like tasting an Angel, and when he had told Harry about it, his friend thought the same thing. She was hard soft at the same time, passionate and reserved, wild and free but hard working and organized. She was like feather and granite- there was no sense in denying, Hermione was the perfect mixture of hard and soft. Even her scent proved it. She smelled like vanilla and cinnamon- just enough to through you off, but too enticing to leave be.

"Like kissing a cloud." She smirked again and squeezed his hand. Ron would always be her special support and the one she would always love to a point- yes they did have a platonic relationship, but she'd never forget what it was like to kiss that man.

Ron looked back at her and knew she was thinking about him, knew she understood him. He might play the idiot, but he was a Gryffindor and in all the advanced classes. He had worked with Harry and Hermione when they were sent to defeat Voldemort. He knew he was the comic relief and knew when to relieve tension, when to act, and when to listen. Harry might be the bronze, Hermione the brains, but Ron was the glue and he knew it.

It was why he started the argument and allowed his "pigheadedness in the way." If his stubbornness would save the group from an argument, he would by all means give himself to it.

He looked back at Hermione and knew it was because of their arguing they were closer. He also knew because of his stubbornness she was all right and sitting in front of him.

He loved her, he protected her, and he may never have her, but he would protect with his life to keep her safe, even if Azkaban was on the other side. The funny thing was, he knew Hermione would do the same.


	5. A chance of a Lifetime

_**Chapter Five**_

_**A Chance of a Lifetime**_

_You're supposed to be dead_

_And yet you sit in front of me_

_And I can feel you_

_As if you were still alive_

_But I'm dreaming_

_And only death will make you real_

Hermione sighed and rubbed her eyes, once again, she had stayed to long. She yawned and felt her eyelids droop. She had better not aparate tonight, when she was tired, it tended to backfire. Besides, it was nice to just take the Muggle way once in a while. She walked out to the curb and put her hand up to signal one of the many cabs of London.

She quickly stepped into the old vehicle and was immediately greeted by the smell of the Muggle world. While most who were born in both worlds were either annoyed or abashed by their heritage, Hermione loved it. Wizards could argue all they wanted about how they had magic and had a more easier and simple lifestyle, but the truth of the matter was, when it came down to it, wizards didn't hold a candle to Muggles. Yeah, wizards had the magic and all, but Muggles strive towards invention and wizards just used a spell. It was one of the treasures Harry and her shared, they were so able in the wizarding world because that was how they have to be in the real one.

She looked back out the window smiled as the familiar old buildings loomed around them. The old Brick brought a sense of warmth and shelter around her. It was weird, Voldemort is so powerful and yet he couldn't find her because she was right in the middle of London. She felt the corners of her mouth lift and smiled into them. It was kind of funny; if he's so powerful, why the hell can't he find her. She sighed and tapped the driver on the shoulder to stop. She always got off a block away from her house and took the back way up, then no one could see her, it was safer this way.

She looked into her purse and was annoyed to find only gallons and quietly switched them to Muggle currency. She smiled, and probably confused the cab driver, and gave the money to him. She stepped into the cool night air and felt it prickle her pale skin. She waited until the she heard the cab turn until she turned into the alleyway.

She took another step and stopped suddenly, feeling her heart suddenly beat. It was amazing how calm you could be in your mind and on the outside, but she could feel her heart race, her arms tingle with the added energy, and her low breathing become shallow. She didn't mind running head first into the pit of snakes or charge into the enemy, but when she couldn't identify it, she was scared. That's why she had Ron; he didn't seem to mind any of it, as long as he knew where to point in the end. Reaching into her long jacket, she slowly drew the old wooden wand into her hand. She took the familiar stance and waited for her attacker.

Although she would never admit it, she loved this part, terrified- yes, but she lived for it. Any second now, she would whirl around and fly this guy back to the Dark Age. She didn't know if it was some twisted part of her that relished the fight because she had been a Gryffindor, or because it was her acceptance of the battle, but she thrived in it.

Slowly, she heard the breathing, it was hard, but it was there. The footsteps had died and she couldn't hear anything else other than the calm breathing of something. Then it happened.

Something grabbed her from behind. It took her to arms and shoved her hard against the wall. It was at least a foot taller than her and though it was lean, it had broad shoulders and she could feel the lean muscles and energy rippling from him. It had to be a him. It was suddenly to dark to see, but she heard and saw a faint glow of red. Then something erupted and the man holding her screamed. She felt him slump for a moment and then push her out of the way towards the other side of the wall. She tried to not make a sound, but she hit the wall hard and whimpered from the sudden solid against her soft back. Pulling her wand out, she pointed it at her attacker and was about to mutter a spell when she saw another figure move and pointed her wand just as sparks flew from it. It was supposed to hit the other figure, but the man who had blocked her moved and hit her spell as well as the figures. He howled in pain fell to his knee before he shot up and muttered something. It was only until she saw green swallow the man whole before she knew….her attacker killed him.

As scared as she was and as hurt as she was, she wasn't willing to fall down or be taken. She stood and pointed her wand at the figure and muttered Expelliarmus but just as the wand flew from her attacker, he caught it with his hand and pointed it her saying, "Disillusion."

Hermione closed her eyes as she felt two arms encircle her and she rammed into his broad chest. They suddenly aparated into her house and he threw her from him and fell to the ground on all fours. She tried to see him properly now and suddenly realized why she couldn't earlier; he had a Disillusion charm on himself. Pointing her wand at him, she was about to mutter when he suddenly stood and shouted, "Experillamis!"

She jumped and tried to reach her wand yelling no, but her attacker took the thing from the air and in a sense of expertise she had only seen once by one other person. He stood and reached both arms out with both wands. He quickly muttered a spell she had never heard before. She shrieked and shrank away as the doors began to turn a tarry black and the tar-like substance seeped through the cracks…making it impossible to come in.

Hermione, who was never one to stand still and not make a move, stood to her full height and walked towards the cloaked figure and shouted, "I don't give a shit who you are, I don't care if you are for the good or bad, and I do not care how powerful you are, give me my wand." She was silently proud and very amazed that she had stood powerful, erect, and dangerously. Her voice was low, calm, and dangerous and she knew her eyes flashed fire and shown with her ability. The figure didn't seem to do a thing and this only infuriated her more than she could imagine. She walked slowly over to him and said clearly, "I am Hermione Granger and if you kill me, you'll succeed in nothing. You cannot hold me for ransom, you can kidnap me but it will bring you no good, and if you kill me, thousands will look for you. You'll be found quickly and you'll die slowly. I say to you once more, return my wand for I am not afraid of you."

She felt her stomach swell with pride when the figure turned its head towards her. _Serves the bloody wanker right_, she thought bitterly and felt a smug smile creep to her lips. She held out her wand hand and waited while the figure turned to her and pointed the wand out to her. She waited patiently but suddenly withdrew and covered herself with her head as she saw his wrist started to move- the wanker was about to kill her, she had no doubt. Why else would he put a silencing spell on, lock all the doors, and keep himself hidden. She waited for some type of curse but heard him say, "Protego!"

She immediately felt the charms and looked out at the person in her living room. She was about to comment when the door suddenly burst open and three Death Eaters entered and pointed their wands at directly at Hermione. Even though the three hellish beings couldn't see the other figure, they knew something was here. The first Death Eater pointed his wand at him and said, "You're supposed to be dead." Hermione cringed as she recognized the voice as Crabbe, the old cronies of the deceased Draco…. but it didn't make sense. If Crabbe knew this man and she knew it wasn't someone on the good side, nobody casts an unforgivable, then who the hell could it be? She got her answer as soon as the man who was apparently fixated on confusing her, drawled, "I've always loved a good entrance." Without another chance, he suddenly flicked his wand all three of her attackers were set on fire.

She didn't even have time to scream when the man she thought was dead grabbed her and she didn't even hear him mutter aparate before she felt them leave her living room.


	6. You're supposed to be dead

_**Chapter Six**_

_**You're supposed to be dead…**_

_I can hear you breathe_

_See you heart beat inside your chest_

_It's bloody repition makes me cringe_

_In silent lust_

_But I still want you, no matter the consequences_

Everything was dark and cold. She was laying on something hard and smooth, her skin felt as if it were on fire from the bitter chill. She wanted to open her eyes and find the light, but after she blinked, she found there was no light. Although she could not see, she could sense she was in an old, cold, and heartless place. The air around her felt dismal and dead, as if dreadful things had happened here and there had never been any love; it sent shivers up her spine to be in such an awful place. She finally realized the hardness beneath her was in fact rough stone and she could fell the presence of it besides her, the wall. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out a sleek and smooth object besides her hand. Feeling it, she felt her insides swell with joy at the finding of her wand. Holding it up and whispering lumnos, she gasped at what she saw.

Although the place was dismal and cold, the furniture around her was the most beautiful she had ever seen, as if she had walked into a castle. There was a rug, exquisite couches, and other things. She stood slowly and held her wand out higher and waited for the light to become brighter. She sucked in breath as the light shown upon paintings at least three hundred years old. Everything was original and finest she had ever seen, and this was just one room. Suddenly, her eyes fell upon the fireplace and looked too see there were logs. Quickly muttering a charm, she smiled as the sudden fire graced her with its warmth. She took in the room again and saw everything was silver, green, or grey. There were windows on the side, large and ominous, but covered by thick curtains that shut the light out. She shivered again, not from the cold, but from the eerie feeling of the home. It was never a happy place; never a place filled with true beauty, simply cold and sterile, what kind of mad people would live here happily.

She jumped when she suddenly heard a very soft noise and craned her ear to listen, somewhere, far away, was the sound of a slow, sad, lullaby on a piano. It was in minor that much she could tell, and it was coming from outside of the room. It continued it's slow hum and she gripped her wand to follow it.

Outside the room was a large hallway with a green rug that looked as though it stretched its length. There were swords and knights that followed it as well and gave Hermione the feeling she was never really alone- those knights were meant for more than a decoration. As she continued and heard the sound become louder, she braced herself for what she would see. If her guess were truly right and she knew what was beyond the hallway and through the door, her life would change drastically. Something she wanted buried would claw its way to the surface again.

She finally reached the old wooden door that blocked her from the beautiful sound. She could feel her nerves hum and her mind scream to go back, but she needed to see, needed to know. She twisted the handle and pushed, and was thankful it didn't creak. Although it was dark in the room, the moon light shown in through the window and illuminated objects on the wall. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust and she was grateful she hadn't brought light into the room.

As the shadows began to contrast with their owners, she realized she was in a very beautiful music room and she searched for the music until it settled on its owner. It sat hunched over the piano and she couldn't make out the colors, but it was tall man. He had broad shoulders, and a very lean body, almost starved, but she could still feel the raw energy and power emanating from him. He short hair that shown in the moonlight and his long figures danced slowly over the keys. She raised her wand and hesitated before breathing the spell- to afraid to startle or wake him from his peace. If she spoke the incantation, she would never be allowed to turn back. She couldn't close the door and run from the place, she would have to face the outcome of her action. Furrowing her brows, she quickly reminded herself she was Hermione Granger, she would not back down, no matter what. Quickly muttering the spell, she cast her wand's light into his direction and her mouth opened wide as did her eyes. Sitting on the bench in his usually majesty, was none other than the deceased Draco Malfoy.


	7. You feel so cold

**Chapter Seven**

_You Feel So Cold _

_It's quiet now_

_Silent in the dark_

_Even though your heartbeat _

_Deafens my ears._

_And claws at my mind_

She stared at the figure in front of her with a combination of horror and disbelief. Sitting, not ten feet from her, was the most powerful and dangerous wizard in the world. Mothers with small children who grew up in the war were told if they were bad, the Draco Malfoy would get them. That very same monster was in the same room with her.

The stared at each other for a moment longer until he finally whispered, "Hello, Granger."

It was so soft; she barely believed he had said it- save for the slight movement on his lips, but there was no mistake he had. His voice clearly hadn't been used for ages because the familiar musical drawl was gruff and hoarse, but still flowed with power and grace only he could achieve. There was another noise in the dim room, a noise she couldn't place, until she realized it was her deep breathing.

She probably should have said something by now, but she couldn't, her brain wouldn't respond, but instead stared. Finally, her voice seemed to weave it's way back to her and she whispered, "Malfoy." She was even surprised at how little her voice seemed next to his still.

He nodded and she saw the corners of his lips twitch upward, but it wasn't from happiness, no, the sadness in him was evident. She was finally snapped out of her daze when the legend before her slowly stood, and it didn't escape her notice when his knuckles turned white on the piano. He sighed as he stood and laughed darkly. He made another move towards her when her vision turned into slow motion.

She heard rather than felt the gasp escape her and felt rather than knew she began to run towards him. She watched as he staggered and slumped forward. She suddenly caught him as he slumped against her and she felt him hiss. She should have known he was in pain, yes he didn't appear to be in any, but she should have known. The duel he had been in was enough to kill anyone. She wrapped her arms around him and helped him lay down on the floor. His body hit with a thump and she knew her arm should have hurt when he landed on it- he was far too thin.

"Long time no see, Granger," he whispered and then laughed- which turned into a gargled hiss. She suddenly slipped into her pre-medi witch persona. Without warning or thinking, she ripped the dark clothing on his chest and gasped at what she saw. On his pale skin were all sorts of marks, some long and lashed while others looked like torture wounds. In the middle of his chest was a dark purple and black looking bruise that spread from his belly button to his nipples, his attacker had hit him well.

She looked back up at his face and saw him slowly slip into oblivion as his eyes lost their luster, or what little luster they had had.

"Oh Draco…," she whispered, "What's happened to you?"

To have the infamous Draco Malfoy bruised and broken in her hands was not something she was ready for. She had to heal him fast.

She picked her wand up and looked him straight in the eye as she said, "This will hurt." Draco nodded and she muttered the incantation when he suddenly arched and groaned. Hermione felt her insides twitch and knew even if he was her enemy; she never wanted to see him like this gain. As she surveyed his body through her wand, she found so many traces of little glitches in his body- places where the magic had tried to destroy him.

She suddenly remembered him muttering protego to her and she felt her eyes well up with tears. She didn't care if in the morning he was her enemy, tonight he had been her savior.

She looked back into his eyes and said soothingly, "I'm going to go to the kitchen to try and find some herbs, try to stay awake."

He nodded and she grabbed his hand to give it a squeeze before she left. He squeezed back and laid his head down on the hard marble floor. She looked at him one last time and sprang up to find the kitchen.

Which proved ten times harder than she had planned. The manor she was in seemed to be a labyrinth of passages and hallways- granted beautiful and chilling, but haunting all the same. She found the patterns to be marbled grey or white with old artifacts and silver and green.

She finally came upon an open door way that seemed to be the pantry and was relieved to find an enormous shelved closet stocked with jars of everything. She quickly looked around and saw peppermint, sage, and a couple other herbs, which she proceeded to levitate to her. Looking around, she finally found a sack and stashed the waxed jars within the satchel. Now on the kitchen, and with her luck, it was right next to the pantry.

She quickly grabbed a pot, two bowls, and as many dishtowels as she could and levitated them into her bag. She silently thanked whatever god had decided Draco not received any scratches or open wounds, finding alcohol of any sort would be a bitch. She suddenly spun around to find her way back through the winding hallways and to Draco.

She tried to remember which way was which, but everything looked the same. She held her wand out in front of her for light and she still wouldn't trust this old manor. It's very walls sent chills down her spine and it had been abandoned for almost six years, anything could be living within them. She kept walking when she suddenly stopped and craned her neck…she had heard something. She knew it. It was soft footsteps. It was slow and careless or something worse. Immediately she had visions of a deformed and disgruntled creature creeping after her. She felt her breath hitch and was ready to whisper whatever spell needed to stun the creature.

She closed her eyes for a moment and wished Draco was with her. Even wounded, the power rolling off of him was staggering. He held presence and had poise that, even when wounded, frightened others- it had always shaken her anyways.

She opened her eyes once again and in the time of a heartbeat, spun around to whisper a spell but was stopped but a gorgeous Malfoy towering over her and leaning against the wall,

His eyes were drooped and she could hear the ragged breathing, but he was upright and coming towards.

"Didn't the Muggles ever teach you not to play with sticks, Granger," he drawled hoarsely, "it could kill someone."

She was so stunned he was up, she didn't retort, but simply stared. When he didn't get an answer, he looked down and said tiredly, "I thought you would get lost."

She blinked and remembered she was the one with the wand, the brains, and the healthy body here, not the other way around. "I think I can handle myself in a house."

He laughed darkly and leaned his back against the wall. "You of all people should know Granger, I'm a Malfoy." When she continued to stare at him, he answered, "This house is a labyrinth on purpose. It was created to be a series of hallways and passageways for my family and their very trusted servants to know. You would never find your way back."

She nodded and accepted this because it seemed only to plausible. She was snapped out of her thoughts when he slumped forward and began to fall towards the floor. She quickly grabbed him around the shoulders and helped him to sit against the wall.

"Draco…," she whispered, "what's happened to you."

His eyes fluttered open and he stared at her before he whispered, "I couldn't let them take you…" Then his world went black.


	8. A flame in a storm can only burn if help

_**Chapter Eight  
**_

_**A flame in a storm can only burn if helped**_

_I wanted you since that moment_

_Since I knew you were to be mine_

_But never to touch_

_Only to want_

_And I shall forever hold you within my dreams_

He couldn't remember anything, other than a dream he had had. It was not like most dreams, when he did dream. It was different, real. He could remember the scent, touch, even sound of her. He wanted to smile when he felt his insides twist and groan. He wanted to clutch at his ribs where he hurt the most, but couldn't feel his arms. Had he been tortured again? Had the good side or the bad captured him? He couldn't remember. He could remember why he had come back to England, but he couldn't remember what had happened after that. Well if he had been tortured or captured, there was no use in struggling until he was well enough to move, so he laid still and acted dead. It had worked in the past.

"I can hear you breathing, you know."

Draco's brows furrowed as he worked to place that voice. It was so familiar, but so old, from his other life. He couldn't quite remember from when in his old life. It was warm and gentle, but strong and knowledgeable. There was only one person in his life that had been able to weave his teachings and way into Draco, Remus Lupin.

He chuckled and hoarsely spoke, "I'm glad you found me, at least it'll be quick then."

He couldn't quite hear what took place, but he knew there was only one person in the room with him, he just didn't know why.

Remus on the other hand, did. He was looking directly at the boy who had taught all those years ago and felt his heart cringe. From his experience, Draco was not a bad child or malicious, simply misguided and filling his father's footsteps. The man lying in front of him however, was anything but. Remus was no expert on medicine, but being cursed with the wolf left him with enough knowledge to heal severe wounds. He also had scars covering his body from the wolf, but when he had opened the young man's shirt, he'd seen scars that could only be from torture wounds and abuse.

Remus was also a brilliant man, he had been a marauder for Christ's sake, he had to be. He knew Draco was either really dead all this time, or had a purpose for hiding, but the latter seemed much more plausible. Remus knew what Draco was truly, a Death Eater in training, but he was different. He was the weapon. Voldemort wouldn't really kill him, he was far too valuable and if he had been killed, her would have been a vengeance killing. The man in front of him had willingly gone into hiding, but for what. He was snapped out of his thoughts when the handsome man in front of him groaned and he gathered more herbs to make another potion.

Hermione sat outside of the old and beaten house that served as her old professor's home. She was on the stoop and she bet anyone looking on would say she looked like a little lost girl waiting for something. She honestly was. She wanted answers.

She knew the Draco in there was different, even from the one she went to school with. She knew he thought something about her, was even obsessed with her, but for what? For the life of her, she couldn't figure it out. _Was it the polarity of their tragically, horribly written tale? _She remembered Luna once telling her they were characters from a horribly written, far to angsty romance tale. Well, that's what you get for being a wizard. Hardy- har- har.

She sighed and rubbed her temples. The moment she began to crack insanely horrible jokes was the moment she knew when she was beyond stressed, beyond exhausted, and beyond her emotional stability point. Why did it seem it could only be her?

She had to be the one who suffered with the crush from Ronald Weasely. She had to be the one who the Harry Potter confided in. She had to be the strong one….

God how she hated that word. The fucking strong one. What did that mean? That no matter what, in the thick of the battle, the blood, and the pain, she was cold and stoic? Did it mean she could never cry, but always be the one to hold those who did? She was the pillar of strength of the golden fucking trio. She was the only constant and stable one. And she suffered for it.

She had to take everyone's hidden secrets, everyone's hidden fears, and everyone's need to confide in someone about their pained darkness. Their secrets and their lies.

She grunted angrily and closed her eyes to calm herself. She was Hermione Granger, the strong one.

She breathed out and leaned back, listening to the night. When no sounds hadn't returned, she wasn't surprised. This was an Order safe house, located in the middle of nowhere and hidden from all eyes. Not even the order members all knew of them, unless you were Remus Lupin, Hermione Granger, or Nymphadora Tonks.

She was still deep in thought when the wise, tall, and poised figure sat next to her on the stoop. He was at least a foot taller than her sitting down, and every since he inherited Grimmwuald Place, he'd eaten better and slept better. Remus in turn took out a cigarette, lit it, and leaned back.

"So?"

She sighed and answered, "So what?"

Remus smirked. Hermione was hardly the child, but when she reached her breaking point, she could be her true age. He smiled and decided to try and coax information from her.

"How did you find him?" When she didn't answer at first, he waited and then rose to check on Malfoy. She didn't want to talk now. He was almost startled when she answered barely above a whisper.

"He found me."

Remus turned around and stared at the young girl. Her voice was barely above a whisper. It was a mixture of fear, despair, and a twisted pain. She spoke gain, but her voice was choked.

"Remus… he found me. He knew to come tonight. To my house. The Death Eaters found my house. He knew thy were going to be here tonight to kill me." She drew her legs up closer and Remus heard her sniffles, "Remus… they bloody knew. They god damn knew where to find me!"

The poor girl. She had gone into battle before, seen wounds and the dead before, almost been killed before, but never near her house and never when she hadn't expected it. He suddenly remembered the first time that had happened to him and how primal he had become. It was the first time he learned how truly powerful he was. He had smelt and heard his attacker though. He could see in the dark, hear his attacker's ragged breathing as if it was next to his ear, he could practically taste the man's sweat- Hermione could not. He took another long drag on his cigarette and breathed deeply.

He had also been twenty-three at the time and the war had just begun. It was expected things like this would happen. Hermione was, in all actuality, a veteran. She had been in this fight for eleven years, she had been trained how to handle every situation, how to confuse or misguide her enemies, and she knew how to handle herself, but tonight the enemy had played her hard. And she knew it.

He shook himself out of his stooper and leaned down near her ear, "Hermione… it's okay to cry." She sniffed some more, but shook her head and dug her nails deeper into her legs. He sighed once more, transferred the cigarette to the other hand, and wrapped his arm around her. She instantly began to sob and choke against him and he felt her tiny frame rattle with fear.

"Hush, you're safe now, it's going to be alright."

They were two of a kind. Both were the chosen confiders, both were the survivors, and both never lost their reserve, but both depended on one another for moments like this. If they couldn't lean on anyone else, they would lean on each other. She seemed to begin to breathe deeper and calm down. When she had spent all of her frustration and fear, she lifted her head up and wiped the tears away and became the same Hermione Granger they both knew. She sighed and looked at Remus, her eyes saying her thank you, and stood up.

"I had better check on our cryptic friend."

Remus simply smiled and waited the night out for his answers. He sat on the stoop with his cigarette, enjoying the flow of nicotine in his system. Hermione was right. Some muggle things were brilliant.

Draco lay quietly not knowing what to expect. He was in an Order safe house with Remus Lupin and Hermione Granger, anything could go either way. When he heard the door open, he could smell her and slowly took a deep breath. This was the first time he'd been in front of her without having to kill something, run, or save someone. Better make the most of it.

"I know you're awake."

He sighed loudly and even though everything hurt, stretched and groaned. He sat up and leaned on his elbows, "Granger."

Her brown eyes became steely and cold. _Hell hath no fury like Hermione Granger_. She crossed her arms and stared back at him, sizing him up.

"See anything you like?"

"Why are you back, Malfoy?"

"Back, I never said I was back. Who said I was back?"

Hermione's brows furrowed and she glared down at him. "Cut the act, Malfoy, there's a reason why you're back and I already know half of it."

He smirked and drawled, "Of course you already do, and you're the brightest witch of our age."

Suddenly he felt the stinging slap of her hand and the heat on the side his face. "Fuck you, Malfoy." She walked away and sighed deeply and stared at the wall. "Why are you back?"

She was in her interrogation phase now. _If I'm going to die, I'm going to die with her knowing. _Draco sighed and was about to say when Remus entered the room again.

"We've got a problem."

"What is it?"

"A recon mission in Liverpool went wrong."

"Who was involved?"

Remus stopped and took a deep breath, staring at Hermione. "Ron."


End file.
